The Messenger
by Natmonkey
Summary: Pick happens across an unexpected scene as he attempts to deliver a message to King Cailan.


_Fluid Consciousness, thanks so much for this idea ;). _

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_"You there, lad." Teyrn Loghain beckons me. "What is your name?"

"I-its Pick, my lord." Andraste's ass, it's Teyrn Loghain himself! The Hero of River Dane! Breathe, Pick, breathe. Don't start gushing like a girl now. I've never had the honour of delivering a message for him.

The Teyrn nods. "Very well, Pick. Tell King Cailan I have need of him at the War Council." Once again the man bends over his papers with plans and strategies.

"Right away, my lord." With a bow I take my leave and head for the king's tent. Being a messenger is a tough job. At least I won't be getting fat with all this running around. Not that I'm fed enough to get fat from. "Is King Cailan in?" I ask the guard posted before the king's tent.

The man shakes his head. "No, the king is with the Grey Wardens at the moment."

"Thank you, ser." _Of_ _course_ he is with the Grey Wardens, right on the other side of camp. And it's not like Ostagar is particularly small either. A messenger's job is never done.

I walk into the Wardens' tent without announcing myself, as per their instructions; there is always someone who needs a message brought to this group. Normally I just see some of them lounging around, caring for their weapons, reading, or talking amongst each other. What I am seeing now, however, I had never dreamed of seeing.

The entire floor of the tent is littered with naked bodies, limbs eagerly twined together, flesh gleaming with sweat. I had no idea the Grey Wardens engaged in such activities. I must say I'm impressed. There a trio of men is writhing in pleasure, tongues licking and fingers grabbing what they can. Even the Warden recruit I heard moping about his pregnant wife is busying himself with another man, hair clipped so short he's almost bald, who seems to be having great fun in pleasuring him with his mouth. There, the other Warden recruit (David or something, I think his name is), has the youngest of the Grey Wardens bent over before him. Usually this Alistair looks a little sad, but right now his face carries an expression of pure bliss.

In this scene of unbridled passion, everyone is engaged with everyone. Hands caressing, tongues stroking, hips pumping. The air is filled with pleasured moans and groans, heavy breathing and the scent of sex and sweat. You'd think I would be more surprised, or shocked even. Truth is, as an elven servant you're all but invisible and thus I've seen a lot of depraved things. Usually not on this large a scale, though. I suppose it might have shocked me a few years ago, but when you walk in on your master doing certain unspeakable things (involving a few mabari, some ball-gags and plenty of lubricating oil) several times, the element of surprise gets lost quite quickly.

The Warden-Commander probably doesn't know his men are behaving in such a way. I heard he's off somewhere, getting another recruit for the order. Such a beautiful sight this is. Too bad I can't stay. These messages won't deliver themselves.

Ah, and there is the man I seek. His Majesty's always meticulously groomed hair is a mess, knotted from the hands of his partner tangled into it. The woman who is riding him so enthusiastically appears to be a soldier, judging from the helmet perched atop her head. Thick locks of ash blonde hair are dancing wildly around her shoulders. Even for a female soldier though, this young lady is beautifully voluptuous, her creamy skin smooth and soft-looking. That helmet is probably not hers.

"Your Highness?" I approach him quietly, so as not to bother anyone. Not that I need to; even if I'd walked in screaming, banging a pair of cymbals together, nobody would have looked up. How absorbed they are in their activities. "Teyrn Loghain sent me with a message for you."

Even before the man can answer, his playmate cranes her neck to look at me. Her cheeks are dotted with the cutest freckles. "My other hole feels _so_ empty," she complains, her voice sultry and full of lust. "Won't you fill it for me, pretty boy?" She crooks her finger and beckons me. A fire is burning in her clear blue eyes.

King Cailan nods. "You may tell me what Loghain wants later. For now," with a wide grin he pats his partner's backside, "join in the fun, friend."

"Please?" the woman writhing in his lap purrs, reaching out to brush the front of my trousers with her fingers. She will like what she feels there, I think.

"Certainly, my lady." I position myself behind her lovely plump behind, struggling to get the laces on my pants open as quickly as I can. "I live to serve." Ah, a messenger's job is tough indeed. But someone's got to do it, right?

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_"The only thing that would make this story [Astoreth does Ferelden, pt. 5] even more perfect and amazing would be an all out orgy scene with Cailan, Alistair, Daveth, the Bannhammer, Ser Bryant, Bella, Anders and Nathaniel. Then my life would be complete." I'm afraid this little story doesn't feature all the characters that would make your life complete, but I hope it will at least make you laugh! _


End file.
